


bonds yet to be broken

by buddhaghost



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Foster Care, Found Family Vibes, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Parent Umino Iruka, Past Abuse, Sai-centric, Self-Harm, Slice of Life, Social Worker Kakashi, i guess, thoughts of self harm, touch averse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:26:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28799817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buddhaghost/pseuds/buddhaghost
Summary: Sai is holding a soapy spoon, now pressed dangerously into the soft flesh of Iruka’s esophagus. He watches as the man’s throat works, and a trickle of water carves a line down towards his collarbone.One quick, sharp movement, and it would be blood, too.He’d thought he was alone. Which is ridiculous, because they’d just finished dinner. Iruka had made chicken milanese. Naruto had declared it was trash and then proceeded to eat three pieces. Sakura had pushed hers around her plate until Sasuke had snapped at her to just eat it already. Sai had offered to do the dishes because that’s what you do when someone cooks for you.Sai had offered to do the dishes, and now he’s holding a spoon like it’s a deadly weapon to the throat of the man who did nothing wrong except enter the kitchen.---or; Sai falls apart. He doesn't understand why these people are so intent on helping put him back together.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Sai & Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi & Sai, Umino Iruka & Sai
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	bonds yet to be broken

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place in a world that i've thought about a lot, where Iruka fosters team 7
> 
> warning for: Sai kind of goes through it. Thoughts of self-harm and just dark thoughts in general
> 
> also as always unbeta'd. don't hesitate to point out mistakes

All is fine until one day, Sai is doing the dishes, mind blank as he goes through the soothing method of soap, scrub, rinse, repeat; water comfortably warm and soap smelling like pleasant lavender.

Sai is doing the dishes, and he feels something brush up behind him.

Sai is holding a soapy spoon, now pressed dangerously into the soft flesh of Iruka’s esophagus. He watches as the man’s throat works, and a trickle of sudsy water carves a line down towards his collarbone.

One quick, sharp movement, and it would be blood, too.

“Sai.” He’d thought he was alone. Alone in the kitchen, in the house, in the world. Which is ridiculous, because they’d just finished dinner. Iruka had made chicken Milanese. Naruto declared it was trash and then proceeded to eat three pieces. Sakura had pushed hers around her plate until Sasuke snapped at her to _just eat it already_. Sai had offered to do the dishes because that’s what you do when someone cooks for you.

Sai had offered to do the dishes, and now he’s holding a spoon like it’s a deadly weapon to the throat of the man who did nothing wrong except enter the kitchen.

Iruka’s hands are rising, slowly coming into Sai’s line of view. He hasn’t moved, his body still reacting as if there’s a threat. Because there was, because he’d been safe and alone and then there’d been someone at his back –

Iruka’s hand lands on Sai’s wrist, and it _burns him_. Years of conditioning is what keeps him from crying out, but he drops the spoon and wrenches his hand away and then he’s on the ground, back pressed into the corner of the cabinets, hard edges digging into him uncomfortably, but he pushes back even further, letting the pain ground him. His hands are in his hair, but that feels _wrong_ , and then they’re clasped around the back of his neck but that’s _worse_ , so he brings them out and curls his hands into fists and lets his blunt nails dig bloody crescents into his palms.

His hands are hot and his wrist is still smoldering from where Iruka had touched him, his back still itching, the memory of Iruka’s vulnerable throat and stuttered breathing under Sai’s spoon etched into his memory, and Sai suddenly knows what he needs to do. It’s so clear.

Iruka has moved to the other side of the kitchen table, putting the space between them but he’s still in the way of the door. Whether it’s on purpose or by accident Sai doesn’t know, but if he can’t leave then he’s still a danger to Iruka and he needs to remedy that.

There’s a knife drying in the rack. Sai knows this, because he cleaned it just a few minutes ago. He lets his gaze slide to it, and Iruka’s follows the next second and Sai can _see_ the moment when Iruka gets it but he’s too late.

Sai lunges for the knife at the same time that Iruka lunges for him. His hands, still soapy, scrabble for the handle, but Iruka’s got an arm around his waist and his grip slips, closing around the blade instead. White hot pain lances through his palm but Sai doesn’t care, because that’s the point.

His hands are capable of so much destruction, have _caused_ so much destruction. He needs to get rid of them.

Sai’s on the ground and Iruka’s on top of him, but the knife is in his hand and Sai shifts his hold on it. He needs to do this quickly, and do it right, but Iruka’s not making it easy, grabbing Sai’s wrist in a crushing grip. He’s yelling something, screaming, probably, but Sai just snarls at him and twists, trying to get free. Every part of his body is burning where Iruka is touching him and his hands feel like molten lead and he needs it _all to stop_.

His hands. Once they’re gone, it’ll all be fine.

He throws a knee up, catching Iruka in the gut, and scrabbles away, but the knife gets lost in the action, skittering across the floor. Sai tracks it and lunges.

With strength and speed that Sai didn’t even know the older man was capable of, Iruka throws himself on top of Sai, crushing him to the ground and wrapping his arms and legs around him in a bear hug, but it’s all wrong because Sai can’t _move_ and he needs Iruka to stop touching him _right now_.

Iruka’s lips are close to his ear as he flips them so Iruka’s leaning against the cabinets, clinging to Sai, restraining his movements. Sai can’t focus on his words, can’t focus on anything except for the sight of the discarded spoon, still glittering with soap.

It’s then that he realizes the screaming he’s been hearing is coming from him. The words that are coming out of his mouth are unrecognizable, and Sai feels like an animal, something feral and rabid and dangerous.

“Let me go,” he finally manages to spit out. “Please, please, please, let me go.”

Danzou never let him go. Never liked the word please.

“No,” Iruka says, kindly but firmly. Sai wasn’t expecting him to, because Danzou never listened to Sai either, but he can’t help but keen, low and desperate, at the response. Then, Iruka says, “Get the knife.”

Sai’s mind goes blank for a moment, before he realizes that Iruka’s not talking to him. Naruto is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching the display with wide eyes. Sakura and Sasuke are behind him; Sakura with her hand over her mouth, looking devastated, and Sasuke’s typically stoic expression shattered by his wide eyes and twisted mouth.

Nobody moves.

“Naruto,” Iruka presses, sounding strained. “Get the knife.”

If Iruka is asking Naruto to get the knife – ah. This makes sense. Sai attacked a superior. This is expected. This is what he _wants_.

Immediately, Sai goes limp. He watches as Naruto steps into the kitchen and scoops up the knife from where it had skidded under the table. When Naruto rises and looks back to Sai and Iruka, Sai closes his eyes.

Lets his head fall back onto Iruka’s shoulder, so that his throat is exposed. It’ll be easier, this way.

Iruka inhales sharply. “Take it out of here.”

Sai’s eyes fly open. Sakura steps forwards but is stopped by Sasuke’s hand on her arm. Naruto looks like he wants to say something, but turns to leave, knife still held in his grip.

“Go on,” Iruka says. “We’ll be okay. Let me handle this.”

“No,” Sai exhales, watching the other three back out of the doorway. Because if not with the knife, then what?

“Sai,” Iruka says calmly. “I have no idea what’s going on in that head of yours. You need to help me out here.”

Sai feels like his thoughts have been through a blender, like the smoothies Naruto made last week. He’s having a tough time focusing on what’s _now_.

Two things stand out. “Let go of me,” he says, a shade away from begging. Because the feeling of Iruka’s skin on his, his hands splayed across Sai’s chest, legs twined in his, is horrible, like he’s breaking out in hives.

“I can’t do that, Sai. I’m sorry,” Iruka says, and Sai can hear the pain in his voice. Danzou never apologized, never sounded like he actually _was_ sorry. Sai swallows harshly, breath coming short and panicked. “What did you need the knife for?”

A question. He’s expected to respond, and even though his throat feels raw, Sai forces the words out. “My hands,” he tries to explain. “They need to…”

Iruka waits, but Sai can’t continue. “Need to what?”

Sai grits his teeth, eyes clenching shut. Everything’s so confusing. He wants them gone, his hands, his thoughts, everything that used to belong to Danzou but now belongs to him and he _doesn’t know what to do about it._ But he doesn’t know how to explain that. Doesn’t think he can.

“Were you going to hurt me with it?” Iruka asks, and Sai’s mind brings back the image of the spoon, the throat, the sudsy water running like blood. He shakes his head, feels a tremble starting to take over his body.

“Were you going to hurt yourself?” An easier question. Sai nods against Iruka’s shoulder.

If Iruka is rattled, he doesn’t show it. “You can’t do that, Sai. Not here.”

“I need to,” Sai whispers brokenly. “I need to be stopped.”

He can feel Iruka shake his head. “Not like that. Never like that, okay?”

Sai can’t answer. He really, really, _really_ needs Iruka to let go of him. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s touched another person for this long, even though Iruka’s hold is turning more into a hug than a method of restraint.

Sai’s back is pressed to Iruka’s chest, and he can feel Iruka’s heart hammering, fast and hard and unyielding. Sai doesn’t know why, but some part of him finds it soothing.

“I called Kakashi.” Naruto’s back, standing in the doorway. The knife is nowhere to be seen, and neither are Sakura and Sasuke. Sai hopes they don’t hate him for this. Getting along with them has been hard enough already.

“Thanks, bud,” Iruka says. Kakashi. The man who got him out from under Danzou’s thumb, who introduced Sai to Iruka. The thought of the silver-haired man calms Sai somewhat. He’s strong. He might understand.

Sai knows that Iruka isn’t going to let go of him any time soon, but he also knows better than to ask again. If they won’t give him the knife, this will be punishment enough.

Still, though. If Iruka lets go of him, he’ll lunge for the potato peeler, which he knows is in the sink right now, still waiting to be cleaned.

As if reading his mind, Iruka starts to rise, unwinding partly from Sai so that he can get his feet under him. “You’re bleeding,” he says, and Sai looks down, confused, before his eyes catch on the blood dripping from his fingertips. Right. He’d grabbed the knife.

“Naruto, go grab some bandages, please? Come on, let’s go wait in the living room, yeah?” Iruka says, before steering Sai bodily from the kitchen.

Sasuke and Sakura are waiting for them. Sasuke leans against the far wall, hands shoved deep in his pocket, while Sakura is perched on the couch, hands tightly gripping her knees.

They both look tense, on edge. Sai did that.

Sakura jumps to her feet as Iruka moves them towards the couch, her eyes immediately going to Sai’s bleeding hand. “I’ll get some bandages,” she declares, and is gone in a flurry of movement.

Iruka seats them down on the faded green couch that faces the windows. Sai was sitting here just earlier today, sketching while Sakura read dumb quizzes from one of her magazines out loud. She thought Sai’s responses to certain things were hilarious.

The mood had been light then, nice. Now it’s rotten, tinged with fear and panic and something rancid. _Sai did that_.

Iruka positions them so that Sai is almost in his lap, still not trusting enough to give him any more wiggle room, and Naruto seats himself on Sai’s other side as Sakura comes bounding back down the stairs, first-aid kit in hand.

She comes to kneel in front of Sai, between the couch and the coffee table, wasting no time in unpacking the kit, laying things out in an orderly fashion. It’s her way to control the situation; Sakura likes to help, _needs_ to.

When Sai had moved in, he’d spent the first week and a half watching his new housemates, studying their habits, learning their actions and mannerisms and place in the dynamic. He’s found that out of all of them, Sakura steps up to be the peacekeeper, taking it upon herself to soothe any aches, or to put the others in their place when the time calls for it.

Naruto is the glue, keeping them entertained with his unfailing optimism and his impressive stubbornness, which more often than not comes out as a bizarre sense of competition with Sasuke.

Sasuke… Sai is still figuring out. Because he’s unpleasant at best, but he’s found that Naruto and Sakura will defend him with their dying breath. It’s something Sai doesn’t quite yet understand, why they all seem to push and pull and hate and love each other in equal measures but are still able to function.

And Sai… he’s nothing but a poison in this house. He’d done a good job hiding it, but it was only a matter of time. And now they’ve all seen him for what he really is – a danger. Surely, he’ll be leaving. He doesn’t blame them – he can’t.

So when Sakura takes his hand in hers, gentle but insistent, he lets her, because it’s easier than trying to fight it, even though he doesn’t deserve it. He ignores the twinge of pain as she cleans the wound, tapes it shut, wraps it tight. The sensation of her hands – _gentle, healing_ – on his – _dangerous, destructive_ – is wrong, making his hands itch.

Iruka’s talking, maybe saying something to Sakura or Naruto or Sasuke, or maybe just giving Sai pointless reassurances, but all Sai can focus on is the photos on the mantle.

For a foster home, Iruka has always seemed pretty insistent on making the place feel as much like a permanent home as possible. Of course, for Naruto, who was adopted when he was seven, it is, and there are photos of the blonde boy throughout the years all around.

But there are also photos of Sasuke and Sakura. Of Kakashi, and other kids that Sai doesn’t recognize but suspects were previous foster kids. Sakura’s most recent report card – all As – is propped up proudly, as is a medal from one of Sasuke’s fencing competitions, which the boy insists is ridiculous but continues to do anyways.

Evidence of lives, past and present. Sai has nothing that he can offer; nothing from his life before Iruka is worth remembering, but it still bleeds into him now. Danzou still has his claws in him; it’s clear with the way he acted tonight. And it’s clear what needs to happen now.

“You need to let me go,” he says again. His voice is raspy.

Iruka’s hold tightens on him in response as Sakura stands, stepping back. “Not until Kakashi gets here.”

Sai shakes his head. “No. You need to… get rid of me.” Because that’s exactly it. If they won’t neutralize the threat themselves, then he needs to leave.

They were fine before him. All he’s done is make things difficult. Iruka is kind because he has to be, but Sai knows that Naruto and Sakura merely tolerate him, while Sasuke looks at him with eyes that scream _outsider._

“Nobody’s getting rid of you!” Naruto declares, his voice too loud in Sai’s ear. Sai slides his gaze over to the boy, who is glaring at Sai, as if offended by his words. His blue eyes watery and his cheeks are red, hands clenched into fists, and if Sai didn’t know any better he’d say it seems like Naruto wants him to stay.

Sai honestly had no idea Naruto feels this strongly about him. Maybe it’s a foster kid thing.

Instead of responding, Sai just closes his eyes again.

“He’s right,” Sakura pipes in. “Don’t be stupid – you can’t just _leave_. That’s not how family works, idiot.”

She sounds angry. Sai honestly doesn’t know how families are supposed to work, so he can’t deny her words.

Sasuke doesn’t say anything.

He feels Iruka sigh. “They’re right, Sai,” he says. “You’re not going anywhere, okay? You’ll always have a home here with us if you want it.”

Sai’s eyes prickle beneath his lids, uncomfortably hot. “You can’t say that,” he argues. “Not when I’m…” defective. Dangerous. Broken.

“You’re _not_ ,” Iruka says, even though Sai doesn’t think he’d spoken out loud. “You’re healing, Sai. Every day. You might not think so, but I see it. I see it in your smile, when you let Sasuke look through your sketchbook, when you let Sakura paint your nails, when you volunteer to taste-test Naruto’s newest ramen concoctions. You’re so much more than you let yourself think you are, Sai. And most importantly, you’re part of this family now.”

“Exactly!” Naruto says emphatically. “We’re not about to let you forget that.”

“But I hurt you.” There it is. The words strong enough to negate everything they just said. Because as much as Sai wants to believe them, he can’t.

Iruka hums. “You didn’t, though. I’m fine, Sai. You didn’t hurt me.”

But Sai could’ve. It would’ve been easy. If he’d shown just a little less restraint, a little more force when he’d turned and pressed the spoon against Iruka’s throat, if he’d been washing _anything other than a spoon_ –

It’s then that the door opens. Either Naruto unlocked it earlier or Kakashi has a key because the silver-haired man strides through like he owns the place, his one visible eye immediately taking in the situation; Sasuke against the wall, Sakura standing over the couch, Sai and Iruka and Naruto sitting far closer to each other than Sai’s ever allowed.

Sai watches as he scans it and processes it in an instant, then lifts his hand in a casual greeting. “Yo.”

“Kakashi!” Naruto all but screams. “This idiot thinks he’s going to leave us – tell him that’s not true!”

Sai feels the weight of Kakashi’s eye on him, and he tenses under the gaze. “Is that so?” His eye then slides up, focusing on Iruka.

The two must have some sort of non-verbal conversation, because Iruka unwinds himself slowly from Sai as Kakashi moves to perch on the coffee table.

Sai holds himself very still. Despite how uncomfortable it was, he feels cold without Iruka at his back.

“Come on,” Iruka says to the other three. Naruto stands up, reluctantly moving to join Iruka. Sakura bites her lip, casting one last devastated expression at Sai, before moving to join them as well. Sasuke pushes himself off the wall, face still carefully blank.

Sai listens as their footsteps fade, voices a murmur as they head back to the kitchen. Probably to finish doing the dishes. Because Sai is so broken that he’s incapable of doing a task as simple as that.

Kakashi is staring at him with an unreadable expression. “What happened?” He asks. Straight forward. Simple. Like a report. Sai can do that.

“I attacked Iruka,” he says, feeling a calm sense of apathy wash over him as he carefully folds away his emotions, fears, attachments. Kakashi asked what happened, and Sai will give him the objective facts. “I pressed a spoon to the soft part of his throat.” He mimics the action on his own.

“Why?” Kakashi presses, voice betraying nothing.

Sai considers. “Because… it’s what I was trained to do.” Years and years of unexpected assaults and grueling tests had honed Sai’s situational awareness, his self-defense, his tendency to leap into an attack without hesitation. Normally his senses were always dialed up to eleven, keeping tabs on where everyone was, constantly assessing for potential threats. Tonight… he slipped up. Let his defenses down. Forgot who he was.

“But why now?” Kakashi presses. Nothing about his tone or the way he’s sitting has changed, but Sai still shrinks back, as if the man has stood up. “Why not earlier? You’ve been here almost two months. What happened tonight that was different.”

The way Kakashi says it, it’s not a question. Something different happened tonight; Sai knows it and Kakashi knows it.

“I…” Sai pauses. The facts. Think of the facts. He’d been alone in the kitchen, doing the dishes. Then, he wasn’t alone, and he’d pressed a spoon to Iruka’s throat. The moments between those two facts are hazy. “I… wasn’t paying attention. Iruka came in. He startled me.” Immediately, Sai regrets the choice of words. This was _not_ Iruka’s fault. It’s all on him.

He tries to backpedal, but finds he can’t, throat suddenly stuck as a rising sense of panic threatens to overwhelm him. It had only been a matter of time – why can’t any of them see that? Why had _Sai_ not seen it? He’d been too comfortable, too intrigued by Naruto and Sakura and Sasuke’s bonds, by Iruka’s kindness. He’d wanted to be like them, convinced himself that if he just _tried hard enough_ everything would be okay and he could pretend just a little longer to be normal. To be one of them.

And he’d failed. Of course he did; he’d set himself up for failure. There’s only so much time a wolf can pretend to be a sheep before it snaps.

This is why he needs to go, because it’s much too dangerous with him here. What if he snaps again? What if nobody can stop him time?

Sai stares at his hands, at the crisp white bandaging that Sakura had done for him. He flexes his palm slightly, feeling the burn as he does so. The cut was shallow, the bleeding superficial. Sai wishes he’d had the chance to close his fist _just_ _a little tighter_ around the blade.

“I know somebody,” Kakashi says suddenly, and Sai tears his gaze from his hands, meeting the man’s serious gaze. “Someone I think you should talk to. Her name is Tsunade, and she’s trained to deal with these sorts of things that are too big for us to handle on our own.”

“How do you know?” Sai can’t help but ask.

Kakashi’s eye crinkles in the semblance of a smile. “Maa, because I’ve talked to her myself. Started seeing her back when I was your age, maybe a little younger.” Kakashi leans forward slightly, but Sai doesn’t shrink back this time. “She helped me recognize patterns and behaviors that I had but couldn’t do anything about. I learned how to identify triggers; things that would set me off, and she helped me develop ways to deal with them.”

Sai looks back down at his hands. “And, as your social worker,” Kakashi adds, “I’m going to recommend you meet with her on a weekly basis. Starting tomorrow.”

Sai can’t look up. The tingling sensation is back, starting in his hands and spreading through his whole body. He knows Kakashi is talking about a therapist. He’s read about them; he knows objectively what they do. They’re for broken people, and Sai is as broken as they come. But to actually _go_ to one, to let someone else see him the way he sees himself…

But if it means keeping Iruka and Naruto and Sasuke and Sakura safe, then it’s worth it. He will do what he must, and if they won’t get rid of him, this is the only way. He looks up, meeting Kakashi’s eye, and nods once. Kakashi does his eye-smile again. “Good! I’m glad you agreed. Because it’s not exactly optional.”

Sai stares at him. Kakashi catches his eye and reaches out, placing a gloved hand on Sai’s shoulder. It doesn’t burn like Sai expects it to, but it’s not exactly welcome, either.

“You will get through this, Sai,” he says, deadly serious. “You have me, and Iruka, and Naruto and Sakura and Sasuke to support you. Your family. We’re here, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Sai stares at him, mind whirling. _Your family_. The words send a thrill through him; their foreignness inciting curiosity. Families meant stability, warmth, love. All things Sai doesn’t yet understand.

But he wants to. He wants to be able to joke around with Naruto and Sakura, to be able to understand Sasuke and the bonds that they all share. To be able to return Iruka’s warm smile with a genuine one of his own. To be able to throw his arm around them as casually as Naruto does, to be able to withstand the contact without feeling like his needs to take a long, scalding shower to scrub any memory of touch from him.

Sai hopes that Kakashi is right, that this Tsunade will be able to help him. Because he doesn’t think he’s ever really _wanted_ anything in his life like he wants this right now.

Kakashi’s still looking at him, so Sai nods. And then he hears the sound of pounding feet and suddenly, there’s one-hundred plus pounds of a hyperactive blonde maniac thrown on top of him, Naruto wrapping his arms around Sai like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “We’re not going anywhere! That’s a _fact_!”

Sakura settles on his other side, a little more reserved but still so close that their sides are touching. “Can’t believe you thought you could escape us,” she says, her tone light. “Family doesn’t give up on each other after one teensy little setback.”

Sai’s not sure if almost killing their caretaker can really be considered a ‘teensy little setback’, but he just nods mutely.

Sasuke doesn’t join them on the couch, but he stands at Kakashi’s shoulder, arms still crossed as he catches Sai’s eye. “You’re an idiot,” is all he says, but his tone is softer than Sai’s ever heard it.

Iruka’s last, draping himself over Sai, Naruto and Sakura the best he can from his awkward position on the arm of the couch. “You’re not going anywhere, Sai,” he declares. “This will always be a home to you, if you’ll have it.”

Sai isn’t sure how to respond. He feels warm, almost uncomfortably so, but it’s not… _bad,_ per se. It’s like he’s been sitting in the sun all day, full of fierce warmth, and for once, he doesn’t want to extract himself from their touches. Not yet.

“Now _this_ is cute,” Kakashi says. “Sasuke, get in there. Let me take a picture.”

“Not a chance,” Sasuke says, while Naruto starts clambering into a sitting position, yelling something about family portraits, and Sakura protests that she _can’t take a photo because her hairs a mess_ , and Iruka is laughing while Sasuke dodges Kakashi’s attempts to wrangle him into a selfie.

The warmth is overwhelming. Sai feels it bubbling up, spreading and growing and changing until he feels his face shift in response, a soft smile parting his lips.

It’s then that Kakashi manages to snap a photo, the chaos of the moment stilled forever in an instant. Undeniable proof of Sai’s existence here, in this home.

Because even though Sai is not fine, he could be, in time. And he knows that until then, his family will be here to support him.

**Author's Note:**

> this ending is cringe... sorry.
> 
> also kakashi and iruka are def dating. didn't tag it simply because it doesn't get mentioned at all
> 
> but thank you so much for reading!! have a lovely day<3


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